


Teach Me, Baby

by JaneAire



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Connor's potty mouth, F/M, First Kiss, First person reader, Kissing, Previously on my tumblr, Reader Insert, This was my first Connor fic, not proof read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 00:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneAire/pseuds/JaneAire
Summary: You're tutoring Connor Murphy at the request of his mother. While working on your Spanish, Connor asks if you wouldn't mind teaching him something else with your lips.Previously on my tumblr.





	Teach Me, Baby

“You ever think about what it’s like?”

His voice startles me from where I’m scribbling in Spanish on my notebook–Connor had been surprisingly productive up to this point. On most nights when I walked over to his house to work on homework, Connor was sprawled on the bed or the floor or the couch and complaining endlessly until I practically did the assignment for him.

Being his tutor was easier than being a friend, after all. But today, Connor had been oddly silent, asking soft questions every so often under his breath about reflexive endings and vowel additions. He ignored his mother as she passed by the open door every so often, smiling in fondly at what must be a very stock photo scene, declining with a ‘no thanks’ when she asked if they needed anything after looking at me expectantly. 

We’re both cross-legged on the blue frayed quilt pressed neatly on his bed, the notes splayed messing between us. The door had been shut in frustration after Cynthia’s third check in, giving Connor enough pause to lean in hyperbole against the door, giving an over exaggerated sigh, pulling on his hoodie and tucking a stray strand of hair back into the bun on the top of his head. 

He isn’t looking at me when he asks the question, he’s staring down at his workbook intently. From where I’m sitting, I can see his lips are pursed tightly, cheeks puckered from the effort, as if he wished he hadn’t said the words. I might’ve laughed given any other situation, at the cost of earning an outburst, but he’d been so quiet today I was worried my chuckle might make him feel…well, might put him in a place I didn’t want him to be in.

“What what is like?” I asked absently, making sure to seem nonchalant. I didn’t want to scare him away. Connor having a serious conversation about anything was such a rare occurrence I was terrified I’d discourage him from doing it in the future. 

There was a beat of silence, then two, and I’d long since decided he wouldn’t answer at all when he blurts out: “kissing.” 

I didn’t look up. My pencil, however, flew out of my hands across the bed, eyes wide where they were glued on my notebook which looked like nothing but white and black tv static at that point. 

“Haven’t you kissed anyone before?” I asked, voice thick and terrified. I half prayed Cynthia would check up on us again, stop the conversation in its tracks. The other half was so terrified Connor would fly up from the bed and scream at me to get out and never come back–and I didn’t want that. I wasn’t so sure I was comfortable with this topic of conversation at all. 

“Shut up,” he hissed, but it was half-hearted, so I knew he wasn’t upset. Curiosity always won out with Connor Murphy. “No, haven’t exactly had anyone wanting to take me up on offers.” 

“I didn’t know you offered,” I joked, daring a smile out of the corner of my eye. He was watching me, I realized, half emboldened by my sudden shyness, but his gaze was soft, the smirk at his mouth playful. He wasn’t making a move, I realized with relief. He was just asking. 

“I don’t, really, I guess,” he sighed, pushing the papers out of his lap and into the bag at the foot of the bed. 

“Connor–” I scolded. We still had a whole other assignment to do. 

“You ever kissed anybody?” He asked so suddenly, his head jerking up to state at me boldly. His stony eyes were wide, almost nervous,  and I watched his adam’s apple dip in the thin column of his throat. 

“I, uh, no,” I sputtered, uncomfortably.  
His dark eyebrows lowered, mouth folding into a thin line.  “Why not?” 

I shrugged. “Never, uh, found a guy I liked, I guess.” 

He quirked an eyebrow, so I elaborated: “You really gotta trust a guy, you know? Because if it’s with a stranger then it means something and it’s weird, but if you already know the person it’s like ‘oh, cool, bye, whatever–’.” 

“You’re doing the Evan Hansen ramble,” he said with a wicked smirk on his pretty pink lips. I game a small smile back. 

“Boys are weird,” I grumbled, focusing back on my Spanish, suddenly none of it making sense. I didn’t like the way my hair fell on my neck, making me too hot and my shirt suddenly felt too heavy and itchy. 

“You okay?”

“Stop asking me weird shit,” I grumbled, folding in on myself around my notebook, shoulders hunched and knees high. Connor laughed–loudly, out of character, readjusting on the bed so that he actually faced me, the torn knees of his black skinny jeans brushing mine. 

“’S not weird shit, dumbass,” he said congenially, tapping my leg lovingly with his pencil, before throwing it into his bag. “Aren’t teenagers supposed to be curious?” 

“Porn exists,” I reminded him cheekily, watching as his pale face flared red. 

“Not the same!” He sputtered, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck. “It’s not–” 

“You would know,” I snorted, flopping back, slightly flustered, against his pillows to hide my reddened cheeks. 

“Shut up,” he growled. “And scoot over.”   
I did as I was told, shuffling to the side and rolling onto my hip to give Connor room to slide up next to me, laying down and glaring at me. 

“You’ve never thought about what it feels like?” He asked skeptically, eyebrows raised just slightly. I watched his hands to avoid his intense eye contact, the long thin fingers picking at a frayed quilt square between us. 

“Course I have,” I muttered. “We were all fourteen once.” 

“And you’re all grown up now, huh?” He teased, kicking me with his sock-clad foot. “You don’t think about boys anymore, huh? I don’t buy it. Don’t think Zoe hasn’t told me about the novels you stuff in your pillow case when you spend the night.” 

“Traitor,” I hissed under my breath, feeling my whole face grow red. 

Connor was still grinning widely, and it was such a rare sight that I took the moment to trace the crest of the apples of his cheeks, the deep lines around his smile, the cracks in his pink lips where the skin stretched just a bit too far. 

“What about that Jake kid?” He asked suddenly, nudging me with his knee. 

“Jake?” 

“The kid that’s on the debate team? Really fucking obnoxious, always staring at your boobs, has the hair?” 

“Josh,” I snorted, stilling laughing at Connor referring to anyone but himself as the guy that 'has the hair.’ “He’s cute, I guess. He just seems kinda skeezy. Like he’d take you to prom to feel you up and then dump you, ya know?” 

Connor frowned, eyebrows furrowed and eyes unfocused with their gaze somewhere in the vicinity of my clavicle. 

“You don’t like him?” 

“Christ, no. I’m too busy to deal with boys, Con, end of story.” 

“You wouldn’t even do like, uh, casual shit?” 

“No,” I hissed, immediately becoming uncomfortable. “Connor, what’s this about?” 

“I don’t know how to kiss a girl,” he sputtered, face red, covering it with his lithe fingers. His black finger nails left crescent shaped indents just above his eyebrows as I reached up to circle his wrists with my fingers, dragging them away. 

“I’m asking you, as a friend,” he muttered, laying beneath me. He still wouldn’t meet my gaze, chewing on his lip thoughtfully, before eventually closing his eyes. His hair was fanned out against the baby blue pillow, the soft curls enticing and beautiful. 

Connor, who was all angles and edges and frown lines, laying still beneath me, eyes closed serenely, pink lips slightly parted. I eased my hand onto his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing accompanied by his heart jackhammering in his chest. 

It was stupid, and I shouldn’t. I trusted Connor, to an extent. Part of me was worried he thought he could woo me like this–take advantage. He was still a man, after all.   
The other half of me was worried. If I rejected him now or later on, he wouldn’t be okay and I wouldn’t be there to help him put himself back together once he fell apart. I wanted to half make sure he wouldn’t fall for me. 

I reminded myself that Connor would probably never, ever be into me. 

Connor rarely lied. He was blunt. Candid. It was admirable, if it wasn’t always so rude.   
I rolled over in the bed just a little more, slotting my knee in between his, brushing my hair back from where it fell in front of my eyes. 

“This okay?” I mumbled, shifting closer, using the hand that wasn’t propping me up to scratch soothingly at his chest, the thick cotton of the hoodie soft against my fingertips.

He nodded, eyes still closed. I couldn’t bite back the chuckle bubbling in my throat. 

“What’s so fucking funny?” He hissed, beginning to sit up, but I pressed him back down with my hand. 

“You’ll kiss me back, right?” I laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes softened immediately, reaching up to take my hand, surprising me as he intertwined our fingers. Our hands were sweaty. “You’re just laying there like sleeping beauty. I feel like I’m stealing your virtue.” 

“You’re funny, kid,” he grumbled, but nonetheless grinned where his lithe hands reached up to take my shoulders in his hands, pulling me back down to the mattress with him. 

“You can say no,” he whispered against my ear, surprising me by pressing a kiss to my jaw. “I won’t be, uh, upset or anything.” 

“I wanna,” I sighed, feeling him shiver beneath me, bring his knees up to frame my hips. 

His hands surprised me as they snaked up my back at lightning speeds, taking my jaw none too gently and tipping it back, forcing me to finally look at him. His expression, unguarded and raw, knocked my breath out of my lungs. I wasn’t used to this Connor. I didn’t know this Connor. 

I liked this Connor. 

He was rough, yanking me too forcefully up to his lips, his fingers knotting violently into my hair and tugging before slamming his mouth into mine, his nose digging into the apple of my cheek. 

He was all teeth, knashing and pressing much too hard, and I tried and nearly failed at smothering a giggle. It wasn’t bad, though it wasn’t necessarily good, it was just too…Connor. Too much of him to take this seriously. 

Still, he commanded my presence again by groaning hard into my mouth, snaking a hand down and pressing hard against the small of my back. I tried to mutter 'baby, slow down, slow down’ but it was muffled by his overzealous kissing. He didn’t show any signs of noticing. 

By the time he’d finished, I’d wrestled my expression into one of neutral positivity–I would probably be chortling like an idiot all night. 

Connor was breathless, his pink lips now red rimmed and swollen from the abuse, a little wet. His eyes were bright, excited as he mumbled a, “Well? Was it good?”

I smiled sweetly, raking a hand through his now tangled hair, leaning down to peck at his lips softly. 

“Okay, for a first try,” I conceded with a smile. “Little rough. Not bad.” 

His eyes furrowed, lips moving into a frown. “Oh,” was all he said, moving to sit up, pushing me back off his lap. I rolled my eyes. 

“It’s nothing a little practice couldn’t fix,” I mumbled, teasing, tracing over the fabric of his jeans. His eyes snapped up.

“Practice?” 

I nodded, leaning back onto my elbows before falling down at the foot of the bed, my hair fanned around me. “Do your worst.”


End file.
